


tears (that we don't remember)

by Phoenix_Allura (Artemis_Autumn_Marie)



Series: Nix's Whumptober 2019 [14]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Crying, Gen, Hurt Minho, Hurt Thomas (Maze Runner), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Storms, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, thominho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Autumn_Marie/pseuds/Phoenix_Allura
Summary: Whumptober Day 14: Tear-stainedThomas and Minho are taking a week off; it's going to be great.When it starts raining, they're still fine.Then the storm really hits.
Relationships: Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: Nix's Whumptober 2019 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507226
Kudos: 34





	tears (that we don't remember)

Sunny and bright, the day they leave for their week away matches their moods. They’re smiling more than either of them can remember smiling before. A week away from responsibilities after well over a year in Paradise--it’s going to be wonderful.

They’ll be alone together for this one week, hunting and gathering and having fun. Thomas is looking forward to sleeping in, slow dancing around the fire, and just spending time with Minho.

The first day is gorgeous--warm, a soft breeze (Thomas laughs at Minho when he complains about his hair getting messed up. Minho doesn’t kiss him the rest of the day), animals all around. They jump into the stream and even when Thomas is sunburnt (“It’s proof,” Minho says, “That the sun wants to kiss you as much as I do.” Thomas would laugh, but it hurts.) Minho rubs a cold cream into his skin and listens to him whine.

The second day they spend lazing about, Thomas lying in the shade and stealing Minho’s fruit when he gets close enough.

The third day, it rains. Lightly enough that they don’t mind, and Thomas takes off his shirt and lets it cool his skin. Minho joins him, and they agree that they might as well do something if it’s not going to be bad. They swim again and end up going fishing. When the rain starts coming down in earnest, they laugh, and Minho dips Thomas carefully into a gentle kiss in the middle of the stream.

“Should we dry off now? It’s only going to get worse.” Minho asks against his lips. They change in the tent, and watch through the flap as lightning flashes. Minho shivers and Thomas tucks himself under his chin, fingers tracing Minho’s scars softly under his shirt. The thunder is loud, but they can deal with noise.

The thunder and lightning only come closer until they’re almost one and the same and Thomas gets worried; a tree might fall on them.

If the tree directly above them falls, they’ll be dead.

And no one will look for them, because they’re not expected back for two days.

That tree above them doesn’t fall, but the tree across from it, maybe ten feet away from their tent flap, does.

Thomas doesn’t remember that part.

(Minho will, later.)

Thomas only remembers waking up, tree across his ribs and Minho’s legs, head pounding with the force of the rain, and getting them out.

He wraps Minho’s leg with trembling hands and wakes him up.

He can’t get them out alone.

They move slowly, making their way in the puddles and ditches that have taken over their little path.

The rain stops, but the moon isn’t out and Minho is already hurt, Thomas taking most of his weight.

Thomas is tracking their path ahead when he slips into a ditch.

He knows, the moment he tries to catch himself, that it’s bad.

Searing heat pulsing in his left ankle, lacing up his calf.

He doesn’t think it’s broken, but it’s a bad sprain. And he can’t leave Minho alone because then he’ll come looking, and that won’t end well.

Thomas grabs a fallen branch near him, and hauls himself up. He limps back to Minho, hiding it as best as he can, and hands him the branch.

“Found you a cane, it might help some.” They continue moving; they’ll be back around dawn at this pace. Someone should be up by then.

The sky lightens, just slightly, maybe an hour later. The clouds are gone; at least they won’t get rained on again.

“We’re close,” Minho says. He shifts his arm so he’s supporting Thomas rather than the other way around. “You’ve been carrying me the whole time, I can manage a little bit of the work.” Thomas is too tired to argue.

Thankfully, Sonya is out hunting.

“What happened?” She takes Minho’s other side.

“The storm felled a tree right onto our tent; I don’t remember that part, but I remember waking up to both of us pinned under it and Minho bleeding a lot,” Thomas explains.

“You might have a concussion, Thomas. Your leg is hurt, Minho? You’re lucky that the doctor is already awake; we had a few minor injuries ourselves.” They move quickly with three of them, and when Harriet runs over, she just picks Thomas up, leaving Sonya to take Minho’s weight.

“He’s a lot lighter than you, Minho, otherwise I’d carry you,” Harriet says.

“Thomas took both our weight most of the way, but he’s been limping, too. He just won’t admit it.” Minho says. “I can handle a few more feet.”

“I see I have more patients. Come in, then.” She checks Minho’s leg first, determines that it doesn’t need stitches and cleans and rewraps it. Then she looks at Thomas.

“Oh, it must have been bad out there, Thomas. You should have told me you were in so much pain, to make you cry.” At that, everyone looks at him.

“She’s right, Thomas, your eyes are red and puffy and you’ve got tracks on your face.” Thomas shook his head.

“I don’t remember crying.”

“You also said you didn’t remember the tree falling,” Sonya says.

“I’ll check your head, then your ankle.”

It turns out that Thomas has a mild concussion and a horribly sprained ankle. He and Minho are both instructed to take it easy for the next week. Thomas checks his face in the mirror back in their cabin, and he can see the tear stains. He shifts his weight, faltering, then slides to the ground as pain shoots up his ankle again. He tries to keep quiet as he starts crying again, over something he can’t even remember. But they have a small cabin, and Minho has good hearing.

“Thomas, what’s wrong? Did you fall?” Minho shouldn’t be up, either, but Thomas doesn’t have any room to lecture.

“I’m fine, Minho.” He doesn't get off the floor, just looks at Minho when he opens the door.

"Let's get to bed, it's been a long day." Minho helps him up and they climb into their bed.

"Is it just the pain?" Minho asks. Thomas shakes his head.

"I'm crying about something I can't remember. It's dumb."

"I remember it," Minho says, softly. "We thought we were going to die. When you realized where the tree was going to come down, you grabbed me and kissed me, hard, and for a long moment. Then you shoved me out of the way. A branch hit you on the way down, that's the concussion. I'm surprised you don't have hurt ribs. I only got hurt when I tried to get to you and the tree shifted and more branches fell." Minho kisses him, gentle and slow.

"Let's sleep until tomorrow. Things will seem better then," Thomas drifts off; he doesn't have to worry now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> Hope you enjoyed, let me know in the comments!   
> As always,  
> Nix


End file.
